


From Here to There and Back Again with You

by blue_fjords



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Children of Earth Fix-It, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-03
Updated: 2012-02-03
Packaged: 2017-10-30 13:05:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/332025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_fjords/pseuds/blue_fjords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternating between Gwen and Jack POV’s; takes place post-Children of Earth.  I labeled it a "fix-it" but that's not really how I see it.  Originally posted July 12, 2009.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From Here to There and Back Again with You

**Here**

Gwen straightened from her desk chair and knuckled the small of her back. The stack of paperwork was just about half what it was this morning. Sighing, she sat back down again and pulled the top piece of paper towards her – “Request for Extended Medical Leave.” She winced in sympathy. This was Martha’s third. She’d gotten farther than she ever had before, and Gwen was cautiously optimistic.

Her phone rang. _Rhys_.

“Hello, love. You leaving at a decent time tonight, then?”

“Looking that way. Rift’s been quiet all week.” She signed her name on Martha’s form and fumbled out the “Approved” stamp. “Have you made me a lovely dinner?”

“Stephen’s made mud pudding with pebble topping.”

Gwen wrinkled her nose. “Well, that certainly does sound lovely…”

“And I made meat pies.”

Gwen smiled as she flipped to the next paper in the pile. “Weekly Expenses for Andy Davidson” – another fifty quid for parking tickets. Cardiff police weren’t cutting the former copper any slack. “We shouldn’t be getting these,” she murmured into the phone.

“Sorry?”

“Oh, nothing, sorry, Rhys. I should be home in about an hour. Kiss the kiddies for me.”

“Will do. See you soon, love.”

The perimeter alarm sounded as she hung up her phone, and her head automatically turned to the CCTV screen above the desk. The blood drained from her face. “Bloody hell,” she whispered.

“Gwen!” Lois called from the front of their offices. Gwen was already out of her seat and running down the hall. She ran into Martha outside her office. Martha looked just as shell-shocked as Gwen felt, and Gwen offered her an arm as they hurried as fast as Martha’s pregnancy would allow to the front of the building. Their offices were located in a former fire station, practical for quick comings and goings, but unfortunately readily accessible to crazies. The two men in the front office were not crazies, however. Although she had never thought to see at least one of them in the land of the living ever again. She was dimly aware of Johnson joining her and Martha; Johnson with two of her guns drawn and trained on their visitors. A quick glance up showed her Andy, and she motioned for him to stay at the top of the fire pole.

“Jesus fuck, Jack,” Martha spat out, and Gwen bit her lip to stop the surge of hysterical laughter. Pregnancy took some women that way. “Are you really Jack? And how the fucking hell are you Ianto?”

The Ianto clone was looking at her, Gwen realized. Looking at her like she was a celebrity, like she was the most amazing thing. She glanced away from him, her heart clenching. _God, Ianto._ “Lois, do a scan,” she ordered gruffly.

“Right away, Gwen.” Lois hurried over to the reception desk and grabbed the scanner.

Jack held out his arms and spun for the scanner. “Hello, ladies. Did you miss me?”

She made a noise, almost like a whimper, and covered her mouth. Next to her, Martha placed her hand on her bulging stomach and looked away.

“He’s registering as Jack Harkness, from Torchwood’s old database,” Lois piped up. Johnson didn’t lower either gun.

Gwen let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. “All right, Lois. What about Ianto?”

Ianto watched the scanner apprehensively. Jack gave him a wink and a small smile, and he noticeably relaxed. Gwen stared at him, taking in his blue eyes, the scar on his cheek, his dark hair and the denims he wore. _God, Ianto. **God.**_

The scanner beeped, and Lois looked up at her confusedly. “I’m not sure what it means.”

 

**There**

Jack wandered through three different places called Barcelona, a planet with purple air, places that had never seen humans. He got drunk on the nectar of a strange plant, had a threesome (or perhaps it was a fivesome) with a group of aliens the likes of which _he_ had never seen. He died countless times. His throat closed up at the sound of children playing and his heart stopped at the glimpse of blue eyes. The sight of a mother weeping for her fallen child sent him into a funk he didn’t leave for months, shuffling aimlessly down sandy beaches before falling and dying of exposure.

In the fifth year of his wanderings, he ran back into the Doctor, looking younger than ever, with his equally child-like redhaired companion. Jack had never felt so ancient. They saved six planets in their week of shared travel, and Jack saved the girl’s life three times, and at the end of it, he was given a gift.

“Anywhere, anyplace, Jack! Your choice.” This young Doctor leaned against a doorway and rubbed his hands together, grinning broadly. He smiled a lot, this Doctor, but his wit was sharper, more cutting than Jack recalled. His companion gave Jack a lopsided smile to encourage him.

“My choice, is it? No limitations?”

The Doctor narrowed his eyes, suddenly wary, and Jack waved away the expression. “I’m not going to destroy the space-time continuum.” He stood up straighter. “How many alternate universes are there? I want you to find me one with Ianto. Find me one without aliens. Find me one where Ianto is alive.”

The Doctor gave him a level look. “And what do you plan to do once you get there? He won’t be the same person. Can you really accept that?”

Jack gave him a crooked grin. “Why, are you worried about me, Doctor?”

The Doctor pushed up from the doorway. “I just don’t want to hear you complaining. Fine, then. Alien-free, living Ianto coming up.”

The childlike companion watched him from across the room. “Any admonitions from your corner?” he asked, with a jut of the jaw. He hadn’t connected with her, not like the infatuation he’d had with Rose, the fast bond he’d shared with Martha, the admiration he’d had for Donna. She was a great girl, but he’d gotten used to women.

She wrinkled her nose in a frown. “How will you leave?”

Jack smiled grimly back. “I’m not.”

“But what about –”

“Look,” he said, cutting her off. “I’m through with the what-if’s. I’ve spent five years running, and it is _not helping_.” His voice was rough and harsh, and with effort, he smoothed it down. “I’m tired. I just – I just want to be with him again. I know it won’t be the same. I know I don’t get that.” His eyes were hot and wet, and he glanced down the hall, fixing on the image of the Doctor communing with the TARDIS. “I know I don’t get my Ianto. But I get something close.”

“I think it’s romantic,” she said finally.

Jack barked a laugh. “It’s not really about the romance. But I wouldn’t mind that bit.” Their eyes met across the room, and Jack managed to smile.

“Okay, Jack,” the Doctor called. “Come here. We have a few things to go over.”

Jack listened patiently as the Doctor explained some minor differences between this alternate Earth and the Earth Jack had known. No alien contact. Faster cars. Less cancer. And Michael Jackson was alive, and President of the USA.

“Well, then. Looks like Ianto owns a pub in Cardiff. I’ll put you down in the back alley.” The Doctor paused and regarded him calmly for a moment. “No disrupting the space-time continuum?” 

Jack nodded impatiently. “I swear.”

“Good luck, Jack,” the companion whispered into his ear, standing on tiptoes to throw her arms around his neck.

“Thanks. Thank you.” Jack began to grin, a wide, devil-may-care grin he’d thought he’d retired. The Doctor raised a brow as Jack pulled him into a rough hug. “Thank you. Thank you.” He stepped out of the blue police box and breathed deeply.

 

**Here**

“Okay, Jack. You’re coming with us. Johnson, keep an eye on him.” Gwen inclined her head towards the Ianto clone and gestured for Jack to follow her and Martha.

“Ianto. Not ‘him,’ Ianto,” Jack said calmly. Gwen just looked at him. _Bloody hell. Bloody HELL._

“Now, Jack.” She was proud that her voice did not waver. Jack turned to the Ianto, took his face in his hands and kissed him. Beside her, Martha’s eyes filled with tears that she wiped away angrily. Gwen shot her a sympathetic look. “Come on, Jack,” she called over her shoulder, helping Martha into the first meeting room. She threw another quick glance up at Andy as they passed under the opening for the fire pole. _Stay_ , she mouthed to him. He nodded, frowning.

Jack followed them into the room as Gwen helped Martha sit down.

“So …” Jack began, but she cut him off.

“Sit. Down.” Her voice cracked like a whip, as the voice of the leader of the Torchwood Institute should. Jack sat, hooded eyes watching her movements. She leaned on the table. “Explain yourself.”

Jack took a deep breath, glanced at Martha, and said, “I went to the Doctor.”

Gwen raised one brow. Ianto had taught her how to do that. “And he concocted a robot Ianto for you, is that it?”

“No, Ianto is Ianto. Just Ianto from a different world.”

Gwen paused. “You have … an alternate Ianto? And he just picked up and left with you?”

Jack grimaced. “Something like that.”

Martha finally cut in. “You can’t do that, Jack, you know that. You don’t take random Ianto’s out of their home universes and stash them elsewhere. He’s not the same person and besides, it’s incredibly unethical.”

Gwen nodded. “Exactly.”

Jack sat back and crossed his arms. “You have no room to talk to me about ethics, Gwen Cooper. You opened the Rift to get Rhys back.”

Gwen felt her cheeks color as Martha threw her a sidelong glance. “I was manipulated!”

“But you weren’t bothered by the results!”

Gwen took a breath and got a handle of her emotions. _Five years, Cooper. FIVE YEARS._ “Leaving aside the question of the ethics of stealing Ianto’s, what are you doing back, Jack? What do you expect? Things have changed here. I’m head of Torchwood now. I don’t go running off. We have a highly functional team, and we’ve stuck together for FIVE YEARS.” She paused and watched him process this, emotions flitting across his blue eyes too fast for her to categorize. _Oh, Jack…_ “Why are you back, Jack?”

 

**There**

Jack pulled his coat tighter around him. It was typically rainy and chilly. _Good old Alternate Cardiff_. He surveyed the back of the pub. It was near the Plass, and the alley was suspiciously neat and clean for an alley. _Ianto_. He strode briskly around to the front of the pub, glancing up at the sunless sky. Still, he would guess about 15:00. He paused at the entrance, noting the “Help Wanted” sign posted in the window. _Perfect_. A bell tinkled above the door as he walked inside.

The interior of the pub was like hundreds of Earth pubs Jack had been to before, just more highly polished, cleaner and somehow more welcoming. Perhaps it was the plants. Or the lights in sconces along the walls. Unlit candles squatted in their holders in the precise center of each table. Jack felt his eyes water, and then his heart stopped at a noise from behind the bar. “Be right with you,” Ianto’s voice called. Jack stumbled like a blind man to the bar, and collapsed onto a stool. Ianto straightened up from the far end of the bar and walked its length to Jack. Each step sent a pang through Jack’s heart. This Ianto was the same height as his, though broader in the shoulders. He was a day or two unshaven and dressed in denims and a plain white undershirt. His eyes were the same sparkly blue, his lips the same shade of pink, his hair just a little longer and wavier. The light threw his cheekbones into relief, and Jack could see a faint scar along the right cheek. He couldn’t prevent the gasp that left him.

“You all right there, mate?” Ianto asked curiously.

Jack nodded. He didn’t trust himself to speak yet.

“Glass of whiskey? Or water?” Ianto added jokingly.

“Water,” Jack managed to croak out. Ianto raised a brow, but fetched a glass of water. Jack gulped it down, careful not to spill it all over himself.

“I saw your sign,” he started, but it came out more like  “Ishwahn.” He cleared his throat and started again. “I saw your sign. In the window.”

Ianto blinked. “You’re looking for a job as a cook?”

Jack blinked back. “Yes.”

“It’s … it’s just pub food,” Ianto said uncertainly. “Nothing posh, I’m afraid.”

“I like pub food.” Jack pulled out his most charming smile. 

Ianto smiled back, somewhat bemusedly. “I was going to have to do it myself tonight – our cook took off after closing last night. I was going to have my mate Banana Boat tend bar so I could cook. Are you up for a trial night? See how you like it?”

Jack nodded eagerly, and Ianto held out his hand. “Ianto Jones. Owner of the Hub.” His expansive gesture took in the entire pub.

Jack choked on his water, and Ianto leaned across the bar to thump his back. Jack had to fight down a shiver at the first physical contact he’d had with Ianto since London. “Jack Harkness,” he mumbled, taking Ianto’s hand and shaking it.

“Great to meet you, Harkness.” Ianto smiled at him, a genuine smile but with no intimacy. No history. No affection – yet. “I really like your coat.”

Ianto showed him around the kitchen and explained how he ran things. Jack stood attentively next to him. Perhaps a little too close, but Ianto did not seem to be bothered. If anything, he seemed flattered at the attention. As the night wore on and customers came and went, or parked themselves on a stool or bench for the long haul, Ianto continually popped into the kitchen to check on him, always laying a hand on his back or shoulder as he asked how things were going. He smelled of a subtle cologne and whiskey, and Jack breathed him in, secretly at first and then more obviously as the night went on. The waitresses flitted around him as he worked in the kitchen, gossiping amongst themselves. By straining his ears, he learned that Ianto had never shown interest in them, but more interesting, that Ianto was a widower. _Lisa was doomed here, too._

Ianto called him out of the kitchen at 2:00. “I’m sorry, Harkness, we usually have shifts but it’s a Wednesday and there isn’t an event going on nearby. Fairly slow night, considering.”

Jack smiled, hiding his exhaustion. There was a marked difference between the hospitality industry and the military. He felt like he’d been marching for days. He flexed his shriveled fingers. Marching for days, while carrying ten full grocery bags in each hand.

“Would you like a drink before you leave me?” Ianto asked. There were still seven patrons nursing mugs of ale, seven hunched men looking for the meaning of existence in jars of fermented wheat.

Jack shook his head. “Thought I‘d help you lock up.”

Ianto looked at him from across the bar, fingers unconsciously clenching around the dishrag in his hand. Jack threw caution to the wind. He laid his hand over Ianto’s fingers. “I’d like to stay, Ianto.”

Ianto swallowed hard. “Yeah. Yeah. Okay.”

Jack smiled his patented dazzle and Ianto smiled back, dazed. They shooed the last patron out soon after 3:00. Ianto pulled the blinds down on the door’s window and turned. Jack watched him, hands in his pockets. Ianto looked at him, then looked away. “I don’t usually –”

“I know,” Jack replied.

“Especially with –” Ianto gestured at him.

“A man,” Jack supplied.

“An employee,” Ianto finished.

“But I’m different.” Jack took a few steps towards him.

“Yes, you are.” Ianto gave him a quizzical frown. “I don’t know why, but you are, Harkness.”

Jack reached him and cupped his face in his hands. “Please call me Jack.”

“Jack,” Ianto whispered, and kissed him, his own arms circling Jack’s waist and pulling him tight against him. Jack lost himself in the kiss. He couldn’t go gentle, and this Ianto didn’t want gentle. Teeth clacked together and Jack tasted blood on his tongue. Still he held Ianto tighter, offering his tongue, his lips, his breath as the kiss continued. He wasn’t sure who first fumbled with belt buckles, but their clothes didn’t stay on for long. Jack pulled Ianto down with him to the floor, stretching out on discarded trousers and shirts. Jack stared at the body spread out before him until Ianto tugged at his arm. “Jack,” he pleaded, and Jack obliged, trailing his lips down Ianto’s body. He was crying, he knew he was crying, at each place that didn’t have a scar, the way this Ianto responded to his touch. Everything was different, but the same. “Jack, are you okay?” Ianto whispered, fingers reaching for his tearstained cheeks. “Yes,” Jack whispered huskily, and then he had Ianto’s cock in his mouth and he could tell that this Ianto had gone much too long without a blowjob. He took his time, licking and sucking and drawing pleased moans and gasps from the man beneath him. From _Ianto_. Ianto came with a shout, heels drumming the well-swept barroom floor. Jack swallowed, sucking down the taste of come and tears, and leaned over to kiss Ianto’s thigh. Ianto gasped a laugh.

“Jack,” he said, fingers reaching for Jack’s hair and stroking it back. “Jack,” he said again, wonderingly. He propped himself up on his elbows. Jack sighed. He must look a sight.

“I don’t want to talk about it. That okay?”

Ianto nodded slowly. “Okay. Lie back?”

Jack did, and Ianto kissed him on the mouth again, smiled, and moved down his body to swallow his cock. Jack bucked into his mouth at the sudden movement. This Ianto was a hummer, and his fingers caressed Jack’s thighs, alternating between holding him down and drawing him in. He smiled up at Jack around a mouthful of cock, and it was the same way, the exact same way _his_ Ianto had smiled the first time he took JacK into his mouth, and Jack came with a muffled groan.

They collapsed onto their backs, sweaty on the floor. Jack was surprised when Ianto immediately took his hand and threaded their fingers together. _His_ Ianto had taken a long time for that kind of intimacy. This was … nice. Jack watched him out of the corner of his eye. Ianto was looking down at their joined hands, a small smile playing across his lips.

“I’d like to take you out,” Jack said, biting back the memory of an awkward request.

Ianto glanced up at him. “What, right now?”

“I mean, well, sometime.” _So much for avoiding the awkwardness._

Ianto’s smile grew broader. “I’d like that.” He sat up abruptly. “Do you like rugby? Big match day after tomorrow.”

“I’ve never been.”

“That’s settled, then. It’s my brother’s night to mind the pub. We’ll go to rugby.” He stretched back out next to Jack and leaned his head on his shoulder. Jack had to fight back tears, and leaned over to kiss Ianto’s forehead and trace the curl around his ear.

 

**Here**

The Rift Alarm chose that moment to go off. “Fuck a duck,” Martha muttered. Jack looked at her askance. She glared hotly back, daring him to say something.

Gwen opened the door and called out into the hall. “Lois! What do we have?”

“I’m not sure what, but something’s come through in Splott. Not too big!” Lois called back.

Jack stood up, and Gwen focused her attention back in the room as he began to speak. “This. This is why I came back. To help you. Ianto and I both came back to help you. I don’t have to be in charge.” He essayed her with his charming, put-you-at-ease smile, and her stomach did a backflip. “I’ve been working _for_ Ianto for five years. I’m adaptable.”

She pointed her finger at him. It was something he always used to do. “Trial run. You come with me and Johnson to Splott. Ianto stays here. I want Martha to check him out first.”

Martha nodded in agreement and struggled to her feet. Jack crossed over and offered her his arm with a slight bow. Gwen could see the hard knot of tension dissolve inside Martha as Martha’s eyes filled with tears. “Fuck you, Jack. How could you leave us?”

Gwen moved up behind them and placed a hand on Martha’s shoulder as Jack lifted her chin. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He ran a thumb across her cheek, collecting her tears, and kissed her forehead. “I’m back now, Martha. And I’m not leaving.”

Martha sniffled, embarrassed. “You better not.” She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. “You better not.”

They joined the others at the front of the building, Martha leaning heavily on Jack’s arm.

“Right, gang,” Gwen started, clapping her hands together. “Martha is going to stay here and run some tests on … Ianto … and Andy will assist her. Jack is going to join me and Johnson in Splott. Lois, you will monitor us from here. Everyone got that?” She waited for them all to nod; Lois relieved and Johnson and Andy more reserved. Ianto gave her an encouraging smile, and she found herself returning it before looking away. “All right, get to it.”

Jack exchanged a wordless look with Ianto. _Well, that hasn’t changed._ Ianto crossed over to Martha and offered her his own arm to replace Jack’s. Jack swooped down and kissed him before turning back to Gwen. _Well, that has._ Gwen could count the number of times she had seen them actually kiss on one hand, and in the space of an hour, she’d seen two more. _It’s not just the denims that’ve changed, Cooper. Best remember that._

“Come on, Jack. Do you have a gun with you?” He nodded as Johnson fell in beside them. The new Torchwood SUV was housed right in the building with them. Jack climbed into the back and Johnson got behind the wheel. Gwen could feel her radiating disapproval, but Johnson was a soldier. She knew when to take orders.

It was a tense ride out to Splott. Gwen got an earpiece for Jack from one of the kits in the SUV, and Lois’ calm voice led them to a lost Gandor. He’d been blinded by Earth’s atmosphere, and let out little squeaks of distress and electric shocks as he knocked into bins in a back alley. It was fairly easy to corral him and send him back through the still-open Rift.

Gwen drove on the way back to the fire station. She still thought of it as the Hub, despite its complete difference. Jack cleared his throat about halfway back. “What’s going on with Martha, Gwen?”

Gwen glanced at him in the rearview mirror and sighed. “This is her third pregnancy, Jack. And she has no children. The hormones … well. They affect different women, differently.”

Jack closed his eyes in pain. “Ah.”

Johnson was also watching Jack in the mirror. “I fucked your daughter,” she said.

Gwen almost lost her grip on the wheel. Jack grunted, and raised his eyes to meet Johnson’s in the mirror. “How is Alice doing?”

“She goes by ‘Sister Moonlight’ now,” Johnson replied drily. “She’s living in a commune on some island in the Caribbean.”

Jack looked out the window. A streetlamp shone briefly into the SUV, and Gwen could see the illumination of a tear on his cheek. His lips moved, in what Gwen was sure was “My fault. My fault.”

 

**There**

Jack took him to a rugby match for their first date. Jack had never been, even after all those years on his Earth. Ianto tried to explain the strategy of the game for Jack’s “American” sensibilities, but soon gave up. Jack just stared at him the entire match. This Ianto laughed _so much_ , yelled at the refs until he was hoarse, winked at Jack as he put on a little show of eating his hot dog, and kept touching Jack – on the shoulder, on the knee, on the waist. When Wales won, he leapt in the air and then pulled Jack into an exuberant public kiss. They barely got through the front door of Ianto’s flat before Ianto was on his knees, mouthing at Jack’s cock through his denims. Jack leaned on the kitchen counter to hold himself up as all blood went south. Ianto was just as enthusiastic as he’d been two days previously, pushing down Jack’s denims and making little noises of appreciation as his tongue twirled around the head and he pulled Jack deeper into his mouth. Jack was forcibly reminded of a night with _his_ Ianto. Ianto’d been drunk and high on the rush of adrenaline that comes from surviving a gun in the face. _One of the many times I fucked up and almost lost him_ Jack thought. Something must have changed in his posture, because Ianto looked up at him through his thick dark lashes. Memories overlaid memories, and Jack came with a grunted “Ianto!”

Ianto sat back on his heels and wiped his mouth, watching as Jack slid rather bonelessly to the floor. Jack dropped his head in his hands to still the reeling of the room.

“Jack?” Ianto asked hesitatingly.

“Yeah?” he mumbled.

“What’s your problem?”

Jack looked up, bursting out into startled laughter. “What’s my problem?! That’s so blunt!” He couldn’t stop laughing. “My problem! Damn, Ianto, where do I even begin?!”

Ianto rose stiffly to his feet. “Terribly sorry I didn’t treat you with kid gloves, Jack. But what do you expect me to think when you cry while we fuck and you weren’t even _here_ two minutes ago?”

“Ianto, come on, sit down. I can explain.” Jack struggled to pull up his trousers. _His_ Ianto had been adamantly opposed to arguing with cocks drawn. It was undignified.

Ianto stayed standing. “Did you lose someone, Jack? I know what that’s like. And I know it does no one any favors to move right into something else. Unless you’re just here for the fuck.”

Jack stared up at him, mouth agape. _So similar and yet so different._ His heart cracked a little more.

Ianto nodded grimly. “So that’s it then. Well, I haven’t got my blowjob yet, but you can keep it. I’m not in the mood.” He inclined his head towards the door. “You can show yourself out.”

“Ianto, wait. I did just lose someone. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He looked up at Ianto, holding his breath. Ianto chewed his lip, then sighed and hunkered back down on the floor.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” he asked softly, looking down at Jack’s hands.

“Not really,” Jack answered, a fist tightening around his heart. “Just … we worked together. We were always together. He … he died in my arms.”

Ianto’s arms were around him in a flash, and Jack buried his face in his neck. There was sobbing echoing in the flat, and to his amazement, Jack realized it was himself. Ianto tightened his grip and pulled Jack into his lap, rocking him back and forth on the hardwood floor.

“It’s okay, Jack. It’s okay. I’m here now,” Ianto crooned to him. “I’m here. We’ll go slow.”

 

**Here**

Lois was waiting for them when Gwen pulled up in the SUV. Along with – “Oh, shit,” Gwen muttered.

“Gwen!” Rhys’ voice sounded of forced joviality. “Mam! Mam! Mam!” Stephen and Hope crowded around her ankles as she struggled to get out of the vehicle. She hoisted her toddler daughter on one hip, ruffled her son’s hair and kissed Rhys quickly on the lips. 

“The kiddies wanted to surprise you with a picnic dinner,” Rhys said. “Gwen, Andy told me –” His voice died off.

Jack got out of the SUV. “Hello, Rhys. Good to see you.”

“Bastard Torchwood,” Rhys got out.

“Mam, Da said ‘bastard.’” Stephen tugged at her arm, watching Jack interestedly.

“I heard, love. And I will talk to him about that right now. But how about you take your sister over to Uncle Andy and help him set up for this picnic you’ve brought me, yeah?”

Stephen pouted, the desire to listen in to the adults’ argument warring with his desire to do what his beloved Mam wanted. “O-kaaaay,” he sighed. He took Hope’s hand and marched off. “UNCLE ANDY!” he yelled. “You’re supposed to help me!”

Jack turned to her. “Your kids are Stephen and Hope?” he asked, a catch in his throat.

Rhys rounded on him. “Never mind that; they could be Jeeves and Wooster as far as you’re concerned. What the fuck are you doing here, Jack?”

“Is that the infamous Rhys Williams?” Ianto and Martha came up from the medical bay and joined them. Rhys took one look at him and collapsed in a dead faint. Gwen sighed and ran a hand through her hair. _Lovely._

 

**There**

“Slow” turned out to be one month, and then Jack moved into Ianto’s flat with his duffel packed with denims and t-shirts, clothes that Ianto wore and they could trade off, stumbling out of bed in the late morning after closing down the pub for the night, lounging around in boxers or towels as they ate cheese toasties in bed (but mindful of the crumbs). Jack acclimated himself to the rhythms of this Ianto, who also disliked laverbread, but who played the guitar to unwind; who also made lists, but never wore a suit if he could help it; who also craved Jack, but loved going fishing with Banana Boat; who also had a scar in the same place on his cheek, but it came from a rugby mishap and not the destruction of his life’s work; who also was moody, but never swallowed his anger; who also lost Lisa and never liked to talk about it, but never lost her twice. Jack couldn’t help but think of the other Ianto when they fucked, but not throughout. He woke up one morning after being in the Alternate a year and realized that he was happy. He was spooned around Ianto, their feet tangled at the top of the bed, and he grinned and nuzzled at Ianto’s ear.

“’Morning, Sleeping Beauty,” he yawned into Ianto’s ear.

Ianto rolled over in his arms. “More like morning breath,” he grumped, but reached up to kiss Jack soundly on the lips. 

Jack smiled down at him. “I’ll get you some water.” He stretched his foot out towards the nightstand and attempted to grab the glass of water Ianto always kept by the bed.

“Jack, you’re not a monkey,” Ianto said, rolling his eyes.

“Almost there,” Jack grunted. The glass fell to the floor with a crash. “Dammit.”

Ianto sighed. “We have a broom.”

“I’ll get it,” Jack rolled out of bed, unthinking. The shard of glass pierced the meat of his heel and he fell back into the bed.

“Fuck! Stay right there, Jack, I’ll get it out.” Ianto scrambled out the other side of the bed and rushed into the bathroom, reappearing with a first aid kit before Jack was even done taking an initial assessment. “Give me your foot, Jack.”

Jack hesitated. “It’s not that bad.”

Ianto stared at him, incredulous. “Jack, you have three centimeters of glass sticking out of your foot. You may need stitches. Let me at least look at it.”

Jack looked back down at his foot. _Damn._ The shard of glass popped itself back out. Ianto’s eyes widened. “Oh my God, did you see that?!” He exclaimed. “That’s –” His voice trailed off in a strangled gulp as the foot began to knit itself back together again as they watched.

Jack sighed. “Ianto?”

Ianto was still staring at his foot. “Jesus Christ, Jack, your foot just healed itself. It popped a piece of glass back out and healed itself.” His voice was preternaturally calm, but Jack knew that look in his eye. Ianto was freaking out.

Jack reached out and touched his arm. “Ianto.”

Ianto started violently and stared at Jack’s hand on his arm. “I need to wash the sheets,” he babbled. “There’s blood on them. The neighbors will think I’ve handed you my virginity along with my sanity. They’ll say ‘There goes Ianto and who the fuck is he with that he can spontaneously heal his heel. Must be the kinky sex.’ It’s always about sex. Have you noticed that, Jack?”

“Ianto. Stop talking and I’ll tell you about my foot.” A bead of sweat appeared on Jack’s forehead, and he had to swallow hard to work some moisture into his mouth. Ianto stared at him, desperate for answers, and Jack stared back, desperate to keep him.

“I always heal. I’m not from around here.”

“Not all Americans spontaneously heal. I think President Michael Jackson would have a hard time keeping that secret.” Ianto’s eyes were huge, and he hugged his knees to his chest. Jack wanted to take him into his arms and tell him it would all be okay. He had always failed at that.

He took a deep breath. “I’m not from America. I’m from a different planet.”

“Is your planet called Providence Park?” Ianto asked slowly and carefully.

“I’m not crazy, Ianto – look.” He reached down and grabbed another shard of glass and sliced open his forearm. More blood splattered the sheets.

“Fuck, Jack! Do you know the thread count on these things?!” Ianto scrambled back along the sheets, almost falling off the bed.

“I’m sorry. But look at my arm.” He held it out steadily. Ianto looked at his face, and Jack tried with all his might to muster up an expression of ‘I mean you no harm.’ It must have worked, as Ianto looked back at his arm. The cut was already mending.

“Okay. Okay. Where are you from, and what are you doing here?” Ianto’s voice was almost steady.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Jack started. 

Ianto snorted. “That’s obvious, Jack. You shagged me senseless last night. I’m inclined to believe that you rather like me. But I don’t know who you are,” he finished, his voice dropping.

“Hey. Ianto look at me.” He waited until Ianto raised his head and looked him in the eye. “I’m who I’ve always been. Just more. I used to live on a planet very much like this one. Something happened, and I ran away. I can never die. Do you understand?”

Ianto swallowed. “So.” He cleared his throat. “You’re talking about aliens, then? You’re saying then that aliens … are real? Are there aliens? In Cardiff?”

“Not your Cardiff.” Jack tried to smile reassuringly.

Ianto’s eyes widened. “Is that what you meant? There’s a whole other world, that’s just like this one, and there are aliens there and men who can’t die?”

“There’s just the one man who can’t die. And I’m not there anymore; I’m here.”

Ianto frowned. “Why? Why go to another world that’s just like the world you just left? That makes no sense, unless something really terrible –” He stopped, his mouth working. It was Jack’s turn to look away. Ianto leapt off the bed, on the non-broken glass side, and ran into the bathroom. Jack could hear him wretching into the toilet. “Fuck,” he muttered, and walked slowly into the bathroom.

Ianto glanced up from the toilet. “It was me, wasn’t it? The way you just showed up out of the blue and wanted to be around me. That doesn’t happen, except in films. And your partner, the one who died, the one I see you staring at when we fuck – that was _me_?”

Jack took a steadying breath. “I’m not supposed to say anything about that.”

“Bollocks, Jack,” Ianto said crisply, and wiped his mouth. “Tell me.”

“That was the other world’s version of you,” Jack said finally.

“I see.”

Neither one of them could meet the others’ eyes. Ianto flushed the toilet and brushed his teeth while Jack stood silently by, watching, wondering. Eventually Ianto looked at him in the mirror above the sink. “How many aliens have you met?”

Jack met his eyes in the mirror. “Thousands.”

“And we worked together? Fighting evil aliens and helping good aliens? Like secret agents?”

“Exactly like.”

Ianto turned to face him. “And when I died, you came back for me.”

Jack’s eyes filled with tears. “Yes,” he whispered.

Ianto bit his lip. “I’m glad.”

 

**Here**

Gwen sighed and refilled her water glass. _All my favorite people, gathered around one table. Be careful what you wish for._

Hope was snuggled in Lois’ lap, sucking her thumb. Stephen sat beside Andy, and alternated staring at Jack and staring at Ianto. Any moment now, he would ask – “Mam! Those men look like Uncle Jack and Uncle Ianto.”

“They do, sweetheart.” She stood up. “Your da and I need to talk to them for just five minutes. You three,” and she gathered them with a glance, “with me.”

“But Mam –”

“Wait here, Stephen. Johnson’s going to get you ice cream for dessert.” Johnson gave her a startled look, and Stephen subsided his fretting. He was a trifle in awe of Johnson.

Jack chuckled as she shut the door to her office closed behind them. “You command like you were born to it, Gwen,” he said admiringly.

“She makes a better head of Torchwood than you did, that’s for certain,” Rhys grumped. “Now is someone going to explain to me what’s going on here? Are you really Ianto?” he asked, turning on Ianto.

“My name is Ianto Jones, yes,” Ianto answered, a small smile playing across his lips.

“Ianto,” Gwen cut in sharply. “What he means, Rhys,” she continued, addressing her husband, “is that he is _a_ Ianto. Jack traveled to an alternate universe and brought him back.”

“To be perfectly accurate, I asked to come here,” Ianto added.

Rhys stared at him incredulously. “Why the fuck would you do that, mate? Do they eat babies in your alternate universe?”

Ianto frowned. “Of course not!”

“Then why would you come here?”

“To protect you! To do what’s right!” Ianto took a deep breath. “This is the right thing to do.”

Gwen turned to Jack. “Is that so, Jack? Do you think we need your protection?” Jack looked at her warily. She took a step closer to him. “You left us. Again. And now you show up five years later with _him_.”

“Gwen –” Ianto started, holding up a hand, and she whirled to face him.

“Shut up. Just shut it. I mourned you. You were … you were closer than a brother to me, and you died. Just … just –” She clenched her fist, turned on her heel, and fled the room.

 

**There**

Ianto had an unquenchable thirst for stories about the other Ianto and Jack. About the aliens and the things they’d seen. But mostly about Gwen, and Tosh and Owen. He had gone to school with a Gwen Cooper – she ran a successful dog-grooming business that catered to the posh crowd in Cardiff. Jack had let himself be talked into going to see her, dropping off their neighbor’s beagle for a wash and trim. This Gwen was about three and a half stone heavier than Jack’s Gwen, and she had no gap between her front teeth. But her voice – her voice had been the same, and the way she crooned to the beagle stirred something he thought he had buried. Jack had to step outside. Ianto did not suggest they try to contact her again, and was unusually silent on the ride back to their flat.

Ianto was possessive for the rest of the evening. He always liked touching Jack, but Jack couldn’t even make dinner without tripping over him. It was the same with doing the dishes, which Jack would have happily left him to. When they went to bed, he straddled Jack’s lap and rode his cock, eyes wide open and fingers reaching behind him to dig into Jack’s thighs. The expression on his face was so similar to the one _his_ Ianto had worn the night they’d lived twice, with all that water under the bridge, with the questions of loyalty and betrayal wide open like festering wounds on their souls, but the idea that there could be something more glittering like a jewel on the hotel nightstand. Jack closed his eyes and came with a hoarse shout.

When he opened his eyes, Ianto was staring at him. He stopped moving, and his cock jutted out, swollen and leaking, but as he watched, Jack could see it shrinking. Ianto looked away and eased himself off.

“I need a shower,” he muttered and walked gingerly into the bathroom.

Jack banged his head against the headboard. _Dammit._ He rolled out of bed and walked into the already steamy bathroom. “Ianto? Can I join you in the shower?”

“No.”

Jack leaned his head against the tiled bathroom wall. “How come?”

Ianto ripped the shower curtain open. “How the fuck can I compete with _myself_ , Jack? I’m fucking jealous of a version of me that died seven years ago, on a whole different world. It’s insane.”

“I’m sorry,” Jack said simply, crossing his arms. He got a chill in spite of the heat of the shower.

“You’re sorry? Jesus, Jack.” Ianto turned back into the shower, pulling the curtain shut. “I need a little space. Could you give me some space?”

Jack leaned back against the wall. “You’re the one that was all clingy earlier,” he muttered.

Ianto ripped the curtain back again. “What,” he stated flatly. It was not a question.

Jack winced. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I meant … oh, bloody hell, Ianto, I’m terrible with your moods; you know that.”

Ianto stared at him. “That is the worst argument – and the worst Britspeak! – I have ever heard. If I wasn’t in love with you, I’d kill you.”

Jack’s mouth fell open. He heard a roaring in his ears and he could feel each and every muscle in his face contorting into a grin. “You’re in love with me?”

Ianto frowned. “And you’re a terrible arguer.”

Jack stepped into the shower, his hands all over Ianto’s body as he kissed him again and again.

Half an hour later, they made it back to the bed.

“Jack?”

“Mmmm.”

“Will you tell me a story?”

Jack smiled sleepily. “We had this hothouse, and you –”

“No. Tell me a story that doesn’t have a happy ending.” Jack cracked an eye at him. Ianto licked his lips, and continued. “It’s not just the other me in your eyes, you know. Whatever happened to you, whatever you did … you can tell me now.”

_So similar, and so different._

“Okay,” Jack said softly. Ianto pulled him closer, and he leaned his head on his chest, over his heart. “There was this island, called Flat Holm…”

 

**Here**

Gwen felt like a coward, hiding in the Morgue. Rhys had carried Stephen and Hope off home, and Andy had driven Martha to her home shortly after. She could hear Lois going over the events of the day at the front desk, and somewhere in the Hub Johnson was at target practice. _Which leaves Jack and Ianto._ A shoe scruffed near her. _Ianto_.

He hunkered down next to her. “I wanted to help you,” he said finally.

Gwen focused on the file in her lap. “When our son was born, Rhys wanted to name him Ianto,” she said, and ran her tongue over her teeth. “I couldn’t. I couldn’t say your name without crying.” The tears fell thick and fast, and Ianto’s arms slid around her shoulders. “Oh, God, Ianto, it gutted me. You, you ...” She buried her face in his neck and wept. He held her tight against him, rocking back and forth, kissing her hair, wiping at her streaming eyes, handing her a kerchief when her blubbering subsided.

“Are you really staying?” she asked when she could form words again.

“I am. We both are. Look, Gwen,” he tilted her chin up to him. “I’m not the same man you knew. But you can count on me. We’ll be together in this. Can you accept that?”

She ran her finger down his jawline. The stubble was different. The eyes, though, the eyes were the same. “Yes,” she said, and kissed his cheek.

 

**There**

“Why me?” Ianto asked in bed one night, during Jack’s third year on the Alternate. Jack glanced over at him, at his face still flushed from sex, his chest hair curling with sweat from their exertions, the duvet bunched down at his ankles. Ianto’s eyes were wide and open, and he looked ready to laugh, as if, if Jack didn’t answer seriously, he could pretend it hadn’t happened.

Jack looked away, preparing a clever quip, but it died on his tongue when he turned back to face Ianto. “Would you believe it’s for the sex?” he hedged, inwardly wincing at his own crassness.

Ianto snorted. “If you wanted amazing sex, you could have continued wandering. I may be good,” and he rolled back on top of Jack, settling between his legs and giving a pleased little smile at Jack’s slight moan, “but I’m still just human.”

Jack looked up at him, eyes automatically going to the scar on his cheek. “What if I just missed you?” he asked softly.

Ianto sighed and settled onto his chest. “But don’t you miss _everybody_? Or are you going to visit everyone else like this? When you leave me?” His voice was muffled now by Jack’s chest and Jack couldn’t see his face.

Jack had to take a deep breath, and Ianto’s head bobbed up and down with his breathing. “Ianto, I am not leaving. Ianto?” He waited until Ianto raised his head and looked at him with cloudy blue eyes. “I’m not leaving you. Please believe that.”

Ianto colored slightly, but he kept his eyes steady on Jack’s. “Good.”

Jack grinned a bit, and arched his neck to kiss him. “But what about my earlier question?” Ianto murmured into his mouth. Jack closed his eyes and flopped back down to the pillow.

“I came looking for you because you were my best friend. You accepted me without reservation but still had the guts to stand up to me when I was wrong.” He smiled humorlessly. “You had to do a lot of standing. But you, Ianto,” and he risked opening his eyes, “you always forgave me. You always eased the load.” Ianto’s eyes were hot and damp, but he didn’t look away as Jack’s voice dropped to a whisper. “And I needed you.”

“Well,” Ianto breathed out shakily. “Well. That’s what I needed to know.”

Jack reached up and touched his face, calloused fingers lightly tracing a stubbled chin. “Are you okay with it?”

In answer Ianto leaned down and kissed him thoroughly, chest pressed flat to Jack’s once again. “I’ve always been a loner. I didn’t think I needed a best friend, but I do,” he said when they finally pulled apart. “I reckon you’re mine. And I like that bit about telling you when you’re wrong,” he added, a twinkle sparking deep in his eyes.

Jack let out a breath he didn’t even know he’d been holding as Ianto leaned over him to the nightstand and fumbled open the tube of lube. His eyes slid shut as he rolled onto his stomach. When Ianto eased into him, he thought, for the first time, only of this Ianto and not _his_ Ianto. This Ianto was his, too. All his. Ianto’s fingers, calloused from the guitar, were gentle and sure on his cock and Ianto’s voice moaned a husky “Jack” in his ear with each slow thrust. “You’re mine, Ianto,” Jack muttered back. “You’re mine. You’re mine.” He could feel Ianto building up and coming inside him, and he closed his hands around Ianto’s fingers and came. He fell asleep with Ianto’s arms around him and a wordless lullaby in his ear.

 

**Here**

The morning dawned cold and gray. Gwen yawned as she stumbled into the Hub around 8:00. She was greeted by the smell of – 

“Coffee? Oh my God, did Ianto make coffee?”

Jack appeared in the doorway to the kitchenette. “Ah, no. I made coffee. Ianto’s a bartender, not a barista.” He held out a mug to her. “Don’t worry, though. I had a wonderful teacher.”

She took a sip and her eyes widened. “Jack, this is perfect.”

He nodded and leaned back against the kitchenette counter. “Yes, it is.”

She watched him over the mug as she slowly drank. Jack bustled around the little space, straightening and wiping down, all while humming to himself. She cleared her throat. “Jack. How long were you gone?”

He looked at her over his shoulder as he rinsed out the rag. “Ten years.”

She nodded. “How long were you with Ianto?”

He smiled. “Five years.”

And she could see them, in the relaxed way he moved around her, in the way he looked to her when questions arose that he used to answer. He was more at peace than she had ever seen him, letting her lead, exchanging whispered asides with Ianto, fetching things for Martha, looking over Johnson’s guns, slapping Andy on the back, answering Lois’ questions on a piece of tech she was training on. As difficult as they had been for her, Jack had needed that time apart.

 

**There**

Jack almost lost Ianto again on a typically rainy night in Alternate Cardiff. The pub was incredibly crowded, dozens of supporters of the Welsh rugby team crowding in to celebrate. One table of English fans nursed their Guinness sulkily in a corner. Later, Jack could not say for sure who had started the fight, but he knew who ended it. Ianto grabbed one England fan in one hand and a Wales fan in another and told them in no uncertain terms that the pub was for drinking and socializing. If they wanted to destroy each other, they could do so elsewhere. The broken bottle slashed across Ianto’s chest, and he dropped both fans before crumbling himself. Jack felt time slow and stop as he pushed through the mob of angry fans and knelt beside him. Ianto stared at him with suddenly electric blue eyes in a very white face. His chest was covered with blood. _Not him. Not him. NOT HIM. I take it all back. NOT HIM._

“Ianto! Ianto! Stay with me.” He pressed his hands to Ianto’s bloody chest. Dimly he could hear a copper’s whistle in the background, he could feel people moving away and someone calling for an ambulance, but none of it sunk in. He was back in Thames House, and Ianto was dying because he, Jack, screwed up and could not protect him. “Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me, Ianto. I love you. I love _you_.”

Ianto stared up at him, lips moving but no words coming out. A medic appeared at their side, and she allowed Jack to stay with them, just up at Ianto’s head as she assessed the situation.

“Mr. Jones?” she said, rustling through her medkit. “This kind of wound bleeds a lot, but it doesn’t look particularly deep. I’m going to cover you up and we’ll get you to A&E right away, where you’ll get a load of stitches. Will your … partner? … be coming to hospital with us?”

“He loves me,” Ianto slurred back at her.

She met Jack’s eyes with a small smile. “He should be fine. Harkness, right? I come here sometimes with my mates,” she added. Another two medics joined them with a stretcher, and Jack called Kathy Swanson, their head waitress, over for a hurried discussion and to leave her in charge.

Jack held Ianto’s hand in the ambulance and tried to stop his heart from galloping up out of his chest and his stomach from spewing its contents. He tried very hard not to blink, as each time his eyelids closed, he saw Ianto on the floor in Thames House. He stared at his Ianto here instead. Ianto blinked at him rapidly and he leaned his head down.

“I love you, too,” Ianto whispered to him. He kissed Ianto’s forehead and gave him a watery smile.

“You’ll be fine. She said so. You’ll be fine.” He kept up his mantra in his head as they pulled up to A&E, as the doctors saw to Ianto, as Ianto got stitches and painkillers, as PC Andy Davidson took a statement from him, and damn if Andy didn’t look exactly the same.

They left the hospital at 4:00 in the morning. Kathy had arranged to have their car dropped off, and Jack drove them home and helped Ianto out of the car, into the flat and into bed. Ianto gave him a dopey smile and promptly proceeded to sleep for ten hours. Jack was dozing next to him, propped up in bed with the paper open across his knees when he woke up. Jack could feel his eyes on him, and he smiled to himself before opening his own eyes.

“How are you feeling, Ianto?”

“I love your smile,” Ianto blurted out. Jack grinned broader. “Oh, shut it, you,” Ianto continued, almost absently. “You have a beautiful smile, you know that.”

Jack composed his face into a serious expression. “Yes, yes I do.”

Ianto rolled his eyes. “I need to ask you something,” he said, after a small pause. “Each time you die … does it hurt? Do you feel it?”

Jack didn’t hesitate. “Yeah.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

“Shit,” Ianto said again. “That doesn’t make this any easier.”

“Make what easier?” Jack asked cautiously.

Ianto licked his lips and gazed across the room. “All the stories you tell me,” he started finally. “It’s just Gwen there now, isn’t it? Protecting that world from evil aliens?”

Jack frowned. “I’m sure she’s found help, Ianto. She’s a sensible woman.” Ianto nodded like he knew her, and after all Jack’s stories, maybe he did. “What brought this on?” Jack asked softly.

Ianto huffed a puff of air. “Tonight. Jack,” and he finally met Jack’s eyes, “you’re not meant to be breaking up bar fights.” Jack felt his throat constrict. “You’re meant for something more. You need to go back there.”

“No,” he said, his harsh voice cutting like a cleaver between them.

Ianto flinched. “Jack –”

“No! I’m not leaving you. You don’t get to send me away. You don’t leave me again.” He felt hot tears threaten to spill over, and he climbed out of bed, pacing the length of the small bedroom, _their_ small bedroom. “Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me.”

“Jack. I’m not leaving you. I mean to go with you.” Jack stopped and stared at him. “I want to help.”

Jack’s breathing quickened, and he crossed back over to the bed on shaky feet. “I need to tell you about Stephen. You shouldn’t – you need to know this before you can decide to do something like this.” In short, clipped sentences, Jack outlined the scenario with the 456. It was the most detail he’d given this Ianto about the other’s death, and Ianto bore it stoically. When he got to his grandson’s role in the story, his voice broke. He finished the story in a whisper, unable to look at Ianto. He felt a hand on his arm and then Ianto was awkwardly hugging him, the bandages plastered to his chest scraping Jack’s back. Jack closed his eyes against Ianto’s neck and breathed in his reassuring scent.

“If you had to do it again, Jack, would you do it the same way?” Ianto asked in a quiet and measured tone.

“I don’t know,” he admitted.

Ianto stroked his hair back. “You looked him in the eye? As he screamed and died?”

Jack had thought he could no longer cry about this. He’d been wrong. “Yes,” he managed to choke out.

“Okay then. I am definitely going with you.” He leaned down and gave Jack a quick peck. Jack blinked back tears. “You need me, Jack,” Ianto continued, “for when it’s a lose-lose scenario. The other me accepted you, you said. This thing … you met it face-on, you beat it and it broke you. Listen to me, Jack,” and his voice hardened to iron. “It does not get to do that. I am with you. I’m not leaving you.”

 

**Here**

The Rift Alarm sounded soon after noon. “Weevils!” Lois called up from the front desk. “Five of them.”

Gwen came running to look over her shoulder. “Dammit.” The others gathered behind her. “Okay, Andy and Johnson, you take the two in the parking garage. Jack, Ianto, you two are with me in the alley. Lois and Martha, you’re on support.”

Ianto flashed her an excited smile as they grabbed gear and piled into the SUV, Johnson behind the wheel. “Does our bartender know how to fire a gun?” Johnson asked, eyes flicking up to the mirror.

“Yes,” Ianto answered. “Jack and I have been training for the past year.” He loaded a modified cartridge of tranq bullets, the brainchild of Johnson and Lois, in his gun with a loud snick. Gwen watched Jack’s face in the mirror, the flashes of resignation and pride and love echoing her own emotions. She met Jack’s eyes in the mirror and nodded. This first time out, they would be a human shield for Ianto if they had to.

“Alley coming up on your right,” Lois’ voice sounded from their earpieces, and Johnson slammed on the breaks. Gwen tumbled out of the SUV, running in tandem with Jack and Ianto like she hadn’t in five years. It was different, this time. Ianto was slower, less precise in his shots, but stronger she found, as a weevil knocked her to the ground and Ianto leapt at it, pushing it back into Jack’s line of fire. _They still worked like two hands of the same body_ , she thought dazedly, as she lay in the alley and got back her breath. Jack pulled her to her feet, and they stood over their three unconscious weevils. She didn’t fight the tears that pricked at her eyes. _They’re back. They’re BACK._

 

**There**

A year after he contacted the Doctor, Jack got an answer. He had explained to Ianto that sometimes the Doctor took his time, but Ianto had just raised an eyebrow and gone about setting up the paperwork to sell the pub to his brother Johnny, Banana Boat and Kathy Swanson. Everything was signed, sealed and delivered a week before Jack’s wriststrap pinged.

“Ianto! Ianto! Get ready!” Jack called excitedly. Ianto grabbed the two duffel bags that were packed and stashed by the door (Ianto had packed and re-packed them each thirty-three times during their year-long wait) and followed Jack out of the flat without looking back.

Jack paused with his hand on the outer door. “One last chance, Ianto. Are you sure you want to do this?”

Ianto nodded impatiently. “I’m with you. Now let’s go.”

Jack pulled him into a deep kiss, which was soon interrupted by a discreet cough. “Ahem.” Jack looked up from Ianto. The Doctor was standing outside the TARDIS, hands in pockets and considering eyes on Ianto. “He’ll be coming with us, then?”

Jack nodded, and Ianto strode forward, hand outstretched. “Ianto Jones. Jack has told me much about you, Doctor.”

The Doctor looked down at Ianto’s hand, shrugged, and shook it. “All right then. Get inside.”

The Doctor plucked at Jack’s elbow as he followed Ianto into the TARDIS. “What are you doing, Jack?”

Jack’s eyes followed Ianto as he had his first alien experience. Ianto’s lips were parted in wonder and his eyes sparkled as he tilted his head back to take everything in. “This was Ianto’s idea,” Jack whispered back to the Doctor. “The 21st century is when everything changes. He wants to help. He thinks I should help.”

The Doctor raised an eyebrow. “And what do you think?”

Jack sighed. “I think Ianto is always right.”

The Doctor weighed him with his eyes, and Jack shifted his feet. “And what will you do when this one dies?”

Jack reeled a step back from the question, but Ianto was at his side again, and answered for him. “He’ll go on.” Jack closed his eyes and nodded. He felt Ianto take his hand, and he held on tight.

“Now, Doctor. Let’s go.” Ianto’s voice was calm and assured, and Jack clung to it like a life preserver in a choppy ocean.

 

**Here**

Gwen straightened from her desk and cracked her knuckles.

“I don’t envy you the paperwork.” Jack sauntered in and sat down at the chair across from her. He looked … sated.

“You know, Jack, that’s really not my idea of cleaning the SUV,” she said with a tiny smile.

He barked a laugh. “Apologies, mum. I’ll be sure to film it next time; how’s that?”

She rolled her eyes. They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes. She watched the light as it played over his face, highlighting the cleft in his chin and the twinkle in his eye. He smiled at her, and her heart lightened its load. Bad times would come again. She knew that. She knew Jack knew that, Ianto knew that, Martha and all the rest knew that. But for now they had a respite, a moment to catch their breaths and be together. Ianto came in, and Jack pulled him down into his lap. They fit there, in her office. She reached out her hands and they each grasped one.

“Thank you,” she said. “Thank you for coming back.”


End file.
